


All in a Day's Work

by koushi



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Barebacking, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Promiscuity, Semipublic Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koushi/pseuds/koushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt, <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/12989.html?thread=28681917#t28681917">this time Cobb is the team slut</a>, on <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink">inception_kink</a>. Gratuitous PWP bottom-slut!Cobb smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All in a Day's Work

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or any of its characters.

i. morning

Before his alarm clock had even buzzed, Arthur had gotten Cobb’s shorts tugged down and was perched between his legs. It was the sensation of something warm and hard pressed against his opening that woke Cobb up.

“Again, Arthur?” Cobb murmured sleepily in mock protest. “We’ve been at it all night…” His morning wood, on the other hand, gave away his eagerness.

His only response was a hushed moan as he slid in quite easily—residual lubricant still remaining from the night before. Cobb’s breaths started coming as low, shallow gasps as he felt himself being filled up so deliciously; a twinge of pain, due to the single deep stroke, quickly evaporated as his muscles accommodated Arthur’s cock.

Cobb held onto the pillows, the bedsheets, the headboard, trying to keep himself from being pushed forward with every thrust. He could have asked for Arthur to slow down, to let up on the furious rhythm, but his old friend knew him better than that. He knew Cobb rather _preferred_ it this way: a ruthless fucking that made him forget he was human, that made him forget he was any more than a sex object, a convenient hole for his lovers.

He rather enjoyed the way the typically silent Arthur came alive during their encounters, grunting and panting and slapping at his ass until raised handprints appeared over the curves. He loved the particular, indescribable noise that Arthur made as he came, as if the exclamation were trapped in his throat, collapsing onto Cobb’s body and commingling their sweat.

Even as Arthur pulled out—leaving a trail of cum to trickle down between his legs, even as Arthur wordlessly grabbed a towel and slipped into the shower, Cobb didn’t move. He continued to lie there with his ass hanging in the air, insatiable.

  
ii. noon

Cobb was alone in the warehouse, or so he thought, when Yusuf came up behind him, resting a hand on either shoulder. “You seem a little tense,” he said, glancing over at Cobb’s reading material: a brief on their next target, a Russian oil tycoon.

“It won’t be an easy job to pull off,” Cobb replied, exhaling slowly. Yusuf’s hands had slowly begun to knead, untying all the knots in his overworked shoulders, and he could have fallen asleep under the dexterity of those experienced fingers. It was akin to hypnosis.

“Put your work down and stand up,” Yusuf said, gently but firmly as he paused his massage. Cobb had nothing in him left to argue, softened as he was by the euphoric trance. “Against the wall.”

Yusuf pressed up close against him, those expert fingers snaking down to Cobb’s crotch and gripping the hardening cock as it jut out against the fabric of his trousers. “You seem _very_ tense indeed. Let me relieve some of this anxiety for you.” He started rubbing, teasing the head through the thin layers of material until a distinct, wet stain appeared where his finger had just been.

Two zips later, and both of their cocks sprung free from their boxer-briefs, stabbing, in the close confines, into the other’s groin. Yusuf angled himself between Cobb’s legs, pressing their bodies yet closer and pushing their cocks into vertical positions, the head pulsating between them as they touched.

Cobb couldn’t constrain his vocalizations as Yusuf’s tongue flicked at his nipple, their hips rutting together desperately to the enjoyment of their cocks, the friction alleviated by the rivulets of precome.

Even after Yusuf came, leaving a sticky trail across both men’s abdomens, he remained to tend to Cobb’s dire condition, dropping a hand to squeeze at his red cock, guiding out his orgasm. As the star-studded blindness subsided in Cobb’s vision, he caught a glimpse of Yusuf licking his fingers. And a smug wink.

  
iii. evening

“Would you like any more wine, sir?” the mustached waiter asked. Saito shook his head and waved to Cobb, who, too, answered in the negative. It was one of the most expensive restaurants in town and not his usual scene, but Saito had insisted that they discuss the latest job prospect over dinner here.

However, Saito leaned over the table when the waiter left, whispering low, “You know what I’m really after, don’t you, Mr. Cobb?”

“A job,” he answered without hesitation.

“Yes, a very important job. It must be completed by the deadline, Mr. Cobb, or I may have to take my business elsewhere,” he said gruffly but with the smallest sliver of a smile.

Cobb nodded and wiped his mouth delicately with the napkin on his lap. Despite being dressed in his best suit, a three-piece by Armani, he descended to his knees and crawled forward underneath the table, obscuring himself with the burgundy drapes of the tablecloth.

Saito had already unlatched his belt and unbuttoned his trousers, absentmindedly stroking at his hard cock and waiting for Cobb to submit to his duty. He wasn’t long in the waiting, groaning approvingly as a tongue lapped at his frenulum, flicking the tiny piece of flesh from side to side.

“Swallow it,” he commanded softly, “nice and deep like you do best.” And Cobb took him within his lips, first the head, then the length of the shaft, ignoring the pressing reflex to gag to ensconce him within his throat. Saito’s hand, which had been sifting through his neatly gelled hair now contracted, pulling at his scalp with a fistful of blond locks. “Yes… just like that.”

He ran his tongue along the smooth skin, tracing the texture of the veins as they popped out along the side. Cobb played with him as he always did, relishing at least this measure of power he still retained, alternating from burying his cock to the hilt in his throat—the dark hairs at the base tickling his nose—to releasing entirely with a loud pop. Saito wiggled in seat, struggling not to lose composure aboveground.

“I’m sorry, sir, but will your companion be returning this evening?” the waiter asked apologetically as he visited the table again, wringing his hands in fear of offending the patron. Hearing the voice, Cobb let loose, increasing the suction as he gripped onto Saito’s thighs, facefucking himself with a vengeance. At that moment he came, staring at the wide-eyed, presumably unnerved, man, glassy-eyed and exhaling in a few short puffs.

When he regained his speaking ability, Saito shakily retrieved his wallet from the coat jacket hanging on his chair, counting out a few hundreds and flipping them onto the table. “No, I believe we are done here.”

  
iv. night

“Fuck you, Eames. Every time you visit, you say we’re going to live it up, reminisce about the good times, and catch up on things. But you’re a liar if I ever saw one: all you ever want to do is fuck,” Cobb said, quite a bit peeved as they stood out on his balcony overlooking the city lights.

“Mm, but _really_ , considering your skill at extraction, a dicking is all you’re good for,” Eames said, holding Cobb firmly against him and leaving little nips down his neck. He braced himself for a sudden movement as he uttered those words, but none came.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? Team slut, am I?” Cobb said somewhat bitterly. “Well then I better earn my title.” He turned his face towards Eames’ and attacked him with a flurry of kisses. Eames had no complaints, cupping Cobb’s ass as he joined in the make-out session.

As things got more heated and hands began to roam, Cobb took Eames roughly by the tie, steering him back towards the glass sliding doors and into the house. There he gave Eames a shove onto the couch in the center of the room and promptly climbed on top of him, straddling his lap.

“I see Arthur’s been around,” Eames said with an amused grin, gesturing to the brown leather jacket hanging from the end of the sofa.

“Shut up and fuck me,” Cobb growled in response, unhindered by the prospect of his fuckbuddies finding out about each other. Eames all but purred as Cobb undid the buttons of his shirt one by one, grinding their hips into each other as they impatiently awaited the removal of pesky clothing.

A few torn articles of clothing and a small packet of travel-size lube later, Cobb was slicked down, inviting Eames’ dripping cock into him hungrily as he impaled himself, deep moans from both parties. With his arms wrapped around Eames’ neck, Cobb rode at a comfortable pace, taking a little more with each thrust downward.

“You’re quite a bit less tight than before, you know,” Eames pointed out between gasps. Like a crop to a horse’s arse, Cobb quickened his movements to a frenzy, clenching as hard as he could to elicit appreciative whimpers. Then, angling himself so that all the pressure would be concentrated at his prostate, Cobb felt his mind explode, his vision dotting itself with lightning bolts, as he came, fingernails digging into Eames’ shoulders.

Eames kept pounding at him until he, too, succumbed, shooting deep into Cobb, who was, by now, almost passed out from weariness. It had, after all, been a long day.


End file.
